


how can the body die? (you tell me, everything)

by madasthesea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Co-Parenting, Crying, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Cuddling, Poisoning, Scorpion (Marvel) - Freeform, Seizures, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whump, mentions of vomiting, temporary paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 08:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/pseuds/madasthesea
Summary: Tony felt panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind.“You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?”“I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark (background), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 125
Kudos: 1151
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iron_spider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/gifts).



> This is part of the Irondad Fic Exchange and I had the unbelievable and slightly terrifying honor of writing for Iron_spider, who is not only an extremely talented writer and a gift to this fandom, but a wonderful person and a big inspiration to me.
> 
> Title from Tiger Mountain Peasant Song by the Fleet Foxes
> 
> Fic request: Peter being poisoned and Tony having to find the antidote.

Peter tumbled in the window, leaving a bloody streak on the glass.

It was a sight Tony had seen—in reality and in his nightmares—too often.

He was next to Peter before the kid had even managed to find his feet, arm around him as he hauled him up.

“He got me,” Peter panted, turning his face into Tony’s neck as a groan slid between his teeth. “He, he got—he wasn’t that fast, before, I—”

“Hush,” Tony said, his tone softened by the gentle hand cradling Peter’s head. He peered down at Peter’s side, where the suit was dark with blood, scraps of shredded fabric sticking to Peter’s skin.

“Who got you?” He asked as he began dragging Peter toward the Medbay. The wound was a strange teardrop shape and it looked deep.

Peter tripped on his feet, his hand automatically reaching up to cover his side when the movement jostled him.

“Scorpion,” he sighed. “His, well—the stinger. On the suit.”

“Jeez, kid,” Tony murmured, wincing as he imagined the large, metal barb piercing Peter’s side, tearing skin and muscle as it was ripped back out.

Peter just made a pained sound, his eyes drooping as they staggered into the Medbay.

Tony helped him on the cot, getting a penlight to get a better look at the wound.

“FRIDAY, get Cho here. I want her to do the stitching,” he said. “This is really deep, kid.”

“It hurts,” Peter whined, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the bed.

“I bet it does,” Tony agreed, briefly placing his palm on Peter’s forehead. Peter’s eyes opened just enough to look up at Tony, his expression bordering on pleading. Tony’s voice softened. “We’ll get you some medicine real soon, ok, buddy? I promise.”

Peter’s eyes looked suspiciously watery, but he nodded, biting his bottom lip.

“Ok. Let’s get you out of the suit, yeah? Get you comfortable?”

Tony peeled the top half of the suit off as gently as possible, but tacky blood and sweat made the material stick to the wound and by the time it was down to Peter’s waist, the kid was practically sobbing.

“It hurts,” Peter gasped, tears leaking into his hair. “Mr. Stark, it really hurts.”

Tony frowned and gave up on the rest of the suit, leaning over Peter and pushing his bangs back from his forehead. As painful as the wound looked, it was strange that Peter was reacting so badly to it. Tony had seen him walk on a broken leg with less complaint.

“It’s ok, Pete. It’s ok,” he assured, feeling panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. He swiped a tear off Peter’s face, then tapped his cheek to get the kid to look at him.

Peter squinted up at Tony, his face white as a sheet, his entire body trembling.

“You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?”

“I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

“Alright, buddy, take a breath,” Tony soothed, putting a hand on Peter’s chest. “I’m going to take a blood sample and we’ll—”

He was interrupted as Peter twisted on the cot; a cut-off scream ripped out of his throat. He bit it back a second too late, his head thrown back in agony. Tony flinched at the sound, surprised and horrified.

“ _Peter_.”

“Tony,” Peter begged. “It hurts so bad,” his voice broke as his chest heaved, nearly hyperventilating.

“I’m gonna fix it.” The promise spilled out of his mouth before his mind could fully form it. He watched as Peter bit down so hard on his lip that he drew blood before finally springing into action. He rushed to a cupboard and nearly snapped the door off its hinges as he flung it open, grabbing a blood test kit. “I’m gonna fix it, buddy, just hold on.”

Tony hands shook so badly he had to tear the packaging open with his teeth, but he forced himself to take a deep breath as he wrestled Peter’s hand into his. Peter’s hands were shaking too, his fingers curling and uncurling at random.

“I’ve got to get some blood, Pete,” Tony said. “Hold still, just-just for a second, alright Spidey? I need you to hold still.”

Peter’s every exhale was a whine of pain, sweat glinting on his forehead and chest. His eyebrows were bunched together, his entire face creased in pain. He gave Tony a look that clearly said that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the trembling.

“Ok,” Tony breathed. “Ok, then, just—sorry. This is going to be a bit of a mess.”

It took three tries to get a clean enough puncture that Tony could smear a bit of blood onto a glass plate, but Peter was so caught up in his head, in the pain from the wound and what Tony was sure was poison coursing through his system, he didn’t notice. Tony still bent and pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s fingertips in apology.

He set the blood sample on the machine to be analyzed, then hurried back to Peter’s side. Peter, who was practically tearing the mattress he was laying on as his back arched, tears still dripping down his face.

“Peter, just—here, hold my hand, ok?” Tony said, sitting on the edge of the bed and bending low over Peter, as if to physically shield him. He combed his hand roughly through Peter’s sweat-damp curls.

“Can’t,” Peter panted, shaking his head.

“Sure about that?” Tony asked. Peter opened one eye and Tony waved at him, the nanotech gauntlet glinting in the light. “Hi. Iron Man. Hold my hand, kid, stop destroying my medbay.”

Peter’s breathy laugh was mostly forced, but he did snag Tony’s hand tight in his own, holding them both close to his chest, every muscle in his body rigid. Tony adjusted to compensate, crowding over Peter, trying to give him some physical assurance, some emotional anchor, even if he couldn’t take the pain away.

Tony kept raking his hand through Peter’s hair, bent low enough that, if he let himself, he could press his forehead to Peter’s temple.

“I’d rather you scream than break your teeth trying to hold it in, Pete,” Tony said, his voice hoarse around the words.

Almost immediately, Peter gave a short, guttural yell, his body jerking as he curled around their joined hands.

Tony couldn’t help himself as he flinched at the sound.

“Sorry,” Peter hiccupped, tears dripping steadily off his nose.

“Don’t.” His tone was snappish, but he knew Peter would see behind the anger to the terror coursing through Tony’s veins much like the venom through Peter’s.

Peter forced one eye open, looking up at Tony in his peripheral. “Poison?” he asked meekly.

Tony wiped some blood from Peter’s bottom lip with his thumb, wincing in sympathy.

“Think so.” He sat up enough to look over his shoulder at the computer. “Should know any—" 

Peter’s teeth clacked as his jaw snapped together. The hand around Tony’s tightened until it was crushing the metal, pushing the nanobites into Tony’s skin.

“Peter?” Tony whirled back around, leaning away so he could get a good look at Peter’s face.

Peter’s eyes were rolled up in his head, every muscle taut and shaking.

Tony breathed out a curse, unable to look away from the teenager having a seizure in his arms. He knew, in some distant part of his mind, what you were supposed to do when someone was having a seizure, but all he could focus on was Peter’s face, the little noises of pain he was making as he struggled to get a breath.

He sat frozen as the tremors slowly stopped, as Peter went completely limp, finally releasing the too tight grip on Tony’s hand.

“Peter?” he whispered, his own hand shaking as he raised it to Peter’s throat.

Tony jumped as a different hand batted his away and he looked up into the determined face of Dr. Cho.

“Move,” she barked, pressing her own fingers against Peter’s pulse.

It took Tony’s mind a second to catch up, but once it did, he stood on weak legs, moving to the head of the cot where Helen wouldn’t need to be, and leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms tight against his chest to hide the mangled remains of the gauntlet, ignoring the cuts he could feel in his skin.

“How long?” Cho asked, lifting Peter’s eyelids and shining a light in them.

“Twenty-four seconds,” FRIDAY immediately responded, which was good, because Tony had no idea. He’d been so panicked he’d forgotten to count.

“Heartrate and breathing are stable,” she muttered before turning attention to the sluggishly bleeding wound in Peter’s side.

“He was poisoned,” Tony said numbly, hardly aware that his mouth was moving.

Helen spared him a glance, then looking toward the computer screen where the results were just starting to come up.

“FRIDAY, alert the on-call team. I want everyone up here.”

Tony’s heart sank to the floor. He pushed himself off the wall and came closer, feeling clumsy and detached.

“Why? What is it?”

Helen opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a low groan from the bed.

Tony instantly turned all of his attention to Peter, standing by the bed and putting a hand on his head.

“Easy, kid,” Tony murmured, the relief that he felt seeing Peter slowly blinking up at him enough to make his throat tighten with emotion.

Peter gasped as he moved his head to look at Tony, his eyes slamming shut again. He swore quietly and Tony did his best to force a laugh, to brush off the concern he could feel in his expression, knowing that Peter would notice.

“How you doing, Pete?” Tony asked, leaning over so Peter could look at him easier.

“Um,” Peter hesitated. “Ow.” The humor in the understatement was ruined when his voice broke.

Tony sighed, pressing his thumb against the soft skin behind Peter’s ear.

Helen strode forward so she was in Peter’s line of sight.

“Good news, Peter,” Dr. Cho said, offering a tight-lipped smile as the kid looked up at her with pain written on every line of his face. “We can go ahead and give you some pain medication now and then get that wound stitched closed.”

Peter’s eyes watered at the prospect of some relief and he nodded in acknowledgment. One of the nurses quickly got an IV line set up.

The wound was already beginning to close, without being cleaned or anything, so they couldn’t wait for the medication to take effect. Peter was in so much pain from the poison that his defenses were down, his admittedly impressive limits well beyond met.

“Mr. Stark,” he whimpered, looking for Tony amid the bustle.

He was just a child. Tony swallowed hard.

“Right here, buddy,” he assured, coming closer.

Cho began rinsing the wound. Peter squeezed his eyes closed, a tear tracing down his cheek as he did.

Tony’s fingers were gentle as he wiped it away, brushing his knuckle under Peter’s eye.

“Hey, it’s ok, Pete, come on,” he soothed into Peter’s ear.

“Everything hurts,” Peter whispered. “My blood feels like fire.”

“Those meds are going to kick in any second, I promise,” Tony lied. He had no idea if the pain killers would be effective against whatever was in his system. He could only pray that they would be, that they would at least put Peter to sleep so he wouldn’t have to feel the excruciating pain.

Halfway through the stitching—with Peter hissing and whimpering with every one, making Tony’s chest ache as he sat, uselessly stroking Peter’s hair and murmuring reassurance—the medicine did seem to kick in. Peter’s head lolled to the side, but Tony’s hand was there to support him, cupping his cheek as he adjusted Peter’s neck to a more comfortable angle.

“That’s right, you go ahead and sleep, kiddo,” Tony murmured. “I’ll take care of you.”

Peter’s eyes met his, so full of pain and trust that it cut Tony to his core. Because he didn’t know if he _could_ take care of Peter. He’d failed to protect him and now he might fail to save him.

Tony sat and held Peter’s hand long after he had fallen asleep.

The nurses were quiet as they cleaned Peter up and got him out of the Spider-Man suit and into a hospital gown. Tony stayed where he was even as another nurse carefully plucked broken nanobots from his hand, wrapping it in bandages. Once that was taken care of, Tony asked for a wet rag, which he was given, and delicately washed Peter’s face of sweat and tears while he waited for Cho to be finished.

Peter still trembled, even in his sleep.

“Tony,” Helen finally said. Tony looked up and watched the nurses scurry out, glancing back over their shoulders at them.

“What’s up, Doc?” he tried to joke, but his voice was quieter than it should have been. He cleared his throat. 

Helen sighed, looking at the holographic screen in front of her.

“It looks like it isn’t just one type of poison,” she said, her voice clear and blunt. She was nothing if not professional. “Are you familiar with Project Centipede?”

“Knock-off Extremis. Highly unstable.” Tony’s stomach clenched as he said it, glancing back at Peter. Hadn’t the kid said his blood felt like it was on fire?

Helen nodded. “Not to mention it’s radioactive.”

“Well, so is Peter.”

Helen’s mouth quirked up just a bit at the corners before she schooled herself. “Which might help. But it might hurt. I’ll have to do some tests.”

Tony took a steeling breath. “What else?”

“It looks like some kind of manufactured pathogen. Combined with the Extremis, his temperature is already rising steadily. We can probably expect some bouts of vomiting, difficulty breathing, and possibly hallucinations.”

“Ok.” He felt dizzy.

“But that’s not what’s—” Helen cut herself off, but the words hung in the air. _That’s not what’s killing him_.

She glanced at Tony again, then continued. “It looks like there’s also a very high concentration of, well, scorpion venom. A mix of many different poisonous species. That’s what caused the seizure.”

“How do we treat it?” Tony asked, his voice hoarse.

“Well, you already discovered how to neutralize Extremis. We’ll pull up your notes and get Bruce working on that factor. I can isolate the pathogen isotopes and create an antiserum from that. We’ll just have hope that the two cures won’t interact badly.”

“And the venom?”

Helen rubbed her forehead like she had a headache. “When you get bitten by a snake, you’re supposed to take the snake with you to the hospital.”

Tony blinked. “You want me to get the snake.”

“I need that venom if I’m going to fix this,” Helen said seriously. Tony nodded and stood, then paused.

“How long?”

Helen sighed, looking at Peter for a long moment before meeting Tony’s eye. “Tony. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. I’d say a few hours at most, but... he could go any time. There’s no way of knowing.”

Tony couldn’t breathe. He sank back into the chair behind him, dropping his head into his hands.

“Tony,” Helen said. He waved her off. He had to get it together, he had to go, _now_ , and get the venom for the kid. He couldn’t waste time freaking out.

Tony’s voice was a little breathless when he spoke “FRI, tell Rhodes to suit up.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tony stood, blinking stars out of his vision. His heart was beating fast, but he ignored it.

Cho stood with him, looking concerned.

“I don’t think you should be the one—”

“I have to,” he said, brushing past her. “I can’t just... I can’t just sit here and do nothing. FRI, tell him we’ll debrief in the common room. Pull up everything you have on Scorpion.”

“Tony, do you really want to spend Peter’s last hours on a _mission_? That anyone else could go on? You should be with him.”

Tony stopped at the doorway, holding onto the jamb to keep from swaying as her words hit him.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.”

The debrief was all of two minutes. By the time it was done, Rhodey was suited up and waiting, Tony’s own suit standing at attention next to him. But he hesitated.

“Give me just a second, alright?” he breathed.

Rhodey’s eyes were knowing as he nodded. Tony turned back toward the medical wing, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat.

Peter’s room was devoid of nurses for the moment. The kid was still asleep, the IV dripping steadily as it kept him on a constant stream of painkillers.

Tony approached the bed but stopped by Peter’s feet.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t say goodbye. It was unbearable.

But he had to decide, before he wasted any more time, which would be harder to live with: Accepting the very real possibility that Peter might die while he was gone and saying goodbye to him? Or living in a fantasy, denying the truth that Peter was balanced precariously between life and death, only to come back with the cure to find him already gone?

Tony shook the thoughts away. Peter wouldn’t die. Tony would make sure of it, because he couldn’t live if Peter didn’t.

“Alright, kiddo,” Tony said, his voice too loud in the silent medbay. “I’ll be back before you know it, ok? And we’ll get you all fixed up.”

Tony reached out and patted Peter’s foot. He cleared his throat, looking down at his hand where it covered Peter’s ankle. When he spoke again, there was less bravado in his voice.

“I know you’re a fighter, kid, so you fight for me, alright? And I’ll go out there and fight for you. And you’ll be right as rain in no time.”

He stood in silence for another few seconds before turning around. He took a step, then clenched his jaw and pivoted back, crossing those few extra feet to the head of the bed.

He bent and pressed a firm kiss to Peter’s forehead, cupping Peter’s cheek with one hand. He squeezed his eyes closed for a second and refused to think that this was the last kiss he was ever going to give the kid.

Then he straightened, sniffed lightly, and walked out the door.

“Don’t tell me that brat’s still alive,” Mac Gargan called casually as he watched Iron Man and War Machine land heavily in front of him.

Tony’s blood boiled, but the faceplate hid the way he winced.

He had debated on keeping Peter’s vitals on his HUD, but knew it would only distract him. FRIDAY was on strict instructions to alert him the second anything changed, but Tony still couldn’t help but feel the distance between them right now.

“He’s stronger than I gave him credit for,” Scorpion continued, his gear closing around him, clunky and slow. It was vastly inferior technology to the Iron Man suit, but Tony eyed the glowing orange fluid powering it with distaste. Project Centipede again.

“Yeah, he hears that a lot,” Tony said flippantly, circling around Gargan enough that he couldn’t see both him and Rhodey at once. “I think it’s the high voice.”

Gargan smiled at him in a way that sent shiver’s up his spine on Peter’s behalf. He couldn’t believe the kid faced down this psychopath on a regular basis.

The thought sobered him. He was paying the price now, sedated and in pain and _dying_ in the medbay.

“That little insect deserved everything he got, Stark. He had it coming.”

Tony grit his teeth, his vision tinged with red as he looked at the man that might have killed Peter.

“That’s nice. Now do you mind holding still while I murder you?”

Rhodey jumped into action the same second the mechanical tail whipped toward Tony.

Peter was right. Scorpion _was_ fast. And strong, stronger than Tony had expected. He maneuvered his mechanical stinger like it was a fifth limb, wrapping it around Tony’s ankle and slamming him into a support strut while Rhodey attacked, pulling his fist back and crashing it into Gargan’s face with the reinforced strength of the suit.

Tony blasted the artificial limb away, powering up his thrusters to hover several feet above the ground.

Before Gargan could recover his balance, Tony rocketed forward and rammed him in the stomach throwing him into a wall. Tony raised his repulsor to Gargan’s face, the whine of it powering up barely louder than Tony’s snarl.

His HUD flashed red.

“Boss, he’s having another seizure.”

All the breath whooshed out of Tony’s lungs. His heart skipped a beat. The only thing he could see was Peter’s vitals going haywire in the corner of the screen, his heart struggling to beat.

Scorpion’s tail wrapped around Tony’s waist and threw him into a pillar.

Rhodey retaliated while Tony got his bearings, and by the time his vision had stopped spinning, he was spitting mad.

This man was killing his kid. It was his fault, his poison coursing through Peter’s veins, contracting his muscles and causing him pain.

“Enough of this,” Tony growled. He activated his laser. If Gargan lost a limb in the process, all the better.

The laser cut clean through the base of the stinger. Gargan screamed as he fell, like Tony actually had sliced off a limb.

Rhodey rushed forward, his shoulder canon trained on the man as he fell to the cracked pavement. Tony hurried to the tail, taking the barb in both hands and tearing it in two. In the center rested a canister of what had to be the poison, glowing faint orange.

Tony trusted Rhodey enough to take care of Gargan without him.

“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped, taking to the air, the cannister cradled carefully in his hands. “I’m coming. Tell Peter I’m coming.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I have zero free time when I'm working both my jobs, so I'm so sorry this is so late!

_“FRIDAY,” Tony snapped, taking to the air, the cannister cradled carefully in his hands. “I’m coming. Tell him I’m coming.”_

* * *

Tony stumbled into the medbay, cannister in hand, only to skid to a halt as he registered Peter, sitting up in bed with May supporting him as he violently threw up into a basin.

May was rubbing his back and shushing him gently, like it was just a bad case of the flu, like any minute now Peter would be asking for soup and a movie. When she looked up and met Tony’s gaze, her eyes were full of fear.

Tony took a step forward and Peter’s eyes flicked to him before he was retching again.

There was a hand on his arm. Tony tore his eyes away from Peter to find Dr. Cho at his side. She took the cannister from his numb hands.

“Come on. Let me update you.”

“The vomiting started about ten minutes ago,” Cho reported once they’d gone into the hall. “And his fever is at 102.8 and rising steadily. The Centipede serum is making it much worse than we had expected, probably because of Peter’s thermoregulation difficulties.”

Tony nodded woodenly.

“We have him on morphine, a fever reducer, and a muscle relaxant, in an effort to lessen the effects of the seizures. Any more and we risk overdose. Any questions?”

“What can I do?”

Helen looked a little sad. “You’ve done your part, Tony. Stay up here and sit with him.”

Tony blanched. “No, I... I need to help, I’ve got to do something.”

“Mr. Stark. You are not a medical doctor. You are not a pathologist, or a biochemist. Right now, you are a very worried father whose kid is dying. You’re needed here, at his side.”

Tony’s jaw snapped shut and he looked away.

“We’ll have FRIDAY keep you updated and send you any questions we might possibly have on your tablet, but Peter needs you. Besides, three geniuses in one lab usually ends in explosions,” Cho said, a faintly forced smile turning up her lips. 

Tony swallowed, but nodded. “Work hard, Doc.”

“Like his life depends on it,” she said, then turned and walked away, the cannister of venom in her hand.

Tony felt practically useless sitting at Peter’s side. May was a nurse and happily took over any task she could find, but Tony just sat in the chair, wiping Peter’s face when he was told, fetching water and towels if they were needed. Peter was out of it, slurring his words any time he tried to talk and losing the train of conversation halfway through. Tony still talked to him, though, holding his hand or brushing the sweaty bangs from his forehead.

Eventually there was nothing for even May to do, and she sat on the other side of the bed, chewing her nails anxiously.

The vomiting eventually stopped, but the fever only climbed higher. Peter, under a near constant stream of medication, faded in and out of consciousness.

Lucidity was only there when the medicine faded, but with it came pain, and Tony hated it, he hated it. He wanted to talk to the kid, joke around and make plans and get emotional only for both of them to pretend it hadn’t happened. But Peter in pain was unthinkable.

He wondered which Peter would choose: to spend his last hours in agony but aware and appreciative of the time he had left with the people who love him, or in a morphine induced haze, unaware and unbothered.

But to entertain the question meant entertaining a future where Peter died, and Tony would not accept that possibility, not before it happened and maybe not even after.

This seemed to be one of those moments, though, between the scheduled doses and high peaks of his fever. Peter turned onto his side to look at Tony. It was his uninjured side, thankfully. Tony got the feeling he’d all but forgotten the original injury in the haze of the poison, but Tony hadn’t. Couldn’t. Every hurt of Peter’s was important and Tony filed each one away to check on and tend.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Tony leaned forward until they were at eye level. Peter’s forehead was glimmering with sweat and his eyes were red from tears. He bit his lip.

“Hey, kiddo, don’t... don’t say that.”

“Tony.” Tony sighed, hanging his head. “I know it’s bad, ok, I... know there’s a pretty big chance that I’m—”

“Don’t—”

“—gonna die,” Peter said over Tony’s protest. His voice softened after seeing Tony’s flinch.

“And I just... I’m really sorry. I know this is your worst nightmare. Both of your worst nightmares,” he adds, glancing out the window where May was on the phone with her boss. “And I can’t imagine what I would be thinking if you or May were the one in this hospital bed.”

Lord, what Tony wouldn’t give for that: for him to be the one in that bed, the end of his life rushing toward him, and for Peter to be sitting in this worn-out chair, fretting but safe.

Tony shifted forward in his seat, looking at Peter intently.

“Have I ever let you down, Peter?”

“No,” Peter immediately answered, his brow furrowed in indignation at the question.

“Then believe me when I tell you that I will not let you die. Capiche?”

Peter gave a tiny huff of amusement. “Yeah. Ok.”

Peter’s eyes closed again after that. Tony let his forehead drop onto the mattress, exhausted and desperate and heartbroken. Because as much as he promised that he’d fix it, he’d done all he could. It was up to Helen and Bruce now and while he knew they were brilliant, masters of their fields, he wasn’t sure it would be enough.

He jumped a little when a hand rested on top of his head. Trembling fingers combed gently through his hair, hot to the touch.

Tony carefully raised his head and Peter’s hand shifted to cup his cheek, exactly like Tony always did to him.

Peter was looking at him with an expression Tony had only ever seen directed at May before. His eyes were soft and alight with admiration and gratitude and love. There was a miniscule frown on his face, a sorrow in the crease between his brows that spoke of how much he hated to cause them grief.

Tony felt it all the way down to his bones, filling his lungs. Peter loved him. Peter loved him.

Peter was going to die.

Tony sniffed, squeezed his eyes shut. Peter traced a thumb along Tony’s cheekbone and Tony raised his hand, trapping Peter’s fingers where they were.

He opened his eyes again and almost instantly had to blink away tears. He needed Peter to stop looking at him like that before he broke down sobbing.

“Let the medicine do its thing, buddy,” Tony said, his voice hoarse. “Go to sleep.”

Peter pursed his lips together in defiance, but his eyes closed anyway, the pull of the medicine too strong to resist for long.

He wasn’t fully asleep when Tony turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, the soft skin burning against his lips. 

Fifteen minutes later, Peter was seizing again. Tony stood against the wall as he watched nurses hover around the bed, supervising his vitals.

It lasted nearly two minutes, the heart monitor screaming as Peter’s heart stuttered and skipped. Tony’s heart seemed to jolt every time Peter’s did.

Finally, Peter went limp. His heart settled into a healthier pattern, though still too fast and arrhythmic.

Tony excused himself from Peter’s side for the first time. He thought he might be sick, but when he went into the bathroom, all he felt was empty. Lightheaded. He needed air.

He wandered dazedly out of the medical wing and to his suite, finding himself standing in the middle of the living room. It was dark, the light coming from the wall of windows was dull and gray. A spattering of rain hit the glass.

Face expressionless, mind blank, Tony put both hands under the coffee table and upended it. The glass top fell and shattered on the wood floor in an explosion of shrapnel.

He crossed over the debris, ignoring the crunching under his shoes, to the bookcase, full of Pepper’s novels and Tony’s science books. There was a stack of Peter’s textbooks on the middle shelf.

Tony braced one foot against the wall and wriggled his fingers into the gap behind the bookcase. He didn’t activate his Iron Man gauntlet, just pulled with all his might until the bookcase finally fell forward with a crash, books spilling onto the ground.

Tony clenched his jaw, turned to find something else to wreck, to destroy, to tear apart like he was being torn apart.

He found Pepper instead, standing in the ruins of the coffee table in her high heels and pencil skirt, immaculate and unfazed.

Tony opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Pepper strode forward and pulled him into her arms, her hand threading through his hair as she pressed him against her shoulder.

Tony clutched at her, his fingers digging probably painfully against her shoulder blades, her ribs. He gasped in a shuddering breath and screamed it out, the sound muffled by Pepper’s collarbone.

She just smoothed a hand up his spine, kissed his temple. He swallowed back a sob, his shoulders shaking.

After several long moments as Tony struggled to keep from breaking down completely, Pepper spoke, her voice quiet but strong.

“Are you ready to go back?” she asked.

Tony wanted to go to the lab and make the cure himself, put himself to work doing something _useful._

He wanted to fly to whatever police station Gargan was being held in and kill him, without Iron Man or Scorpion, just Tony and his hands and his grief.

His chest ached from being away from Peter.

“Yeah,” he finally rasped.

The nurse updated Tony when he came in. May was once again sitting at Peter’s side.

They weren’t allowed to hold his hand in case he had another seizure. They weren’t allowed to hold _him_ lest it make his fever rise even higher.

All they could do was sit and watch his heartbeat sputter onward. It was, without doubt, the cruelest torture Tony had ever endured.

Peter’s sleep was fitful and restless. He woke often, but was usually delirious from pain, the fever scrambling any thoughts the medication hadn’t.

“I’m going to fall,” Peter whispered. Tony flinched, not even realizing Peter was awake.

“What, kid?” He asked. May was also leaning forward in her seat, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m going to fall,” he repeated, his eyes widening.

Tony looked at the bed Peter was firmly in the middle of. “You’re not going to fall, Pete.”

Peter looked in Tony’s direction, but couldn’t seem to focus on his face.

“He’s going to drop me.” He was starting to sound scared, pleading. His words were slurring a little bit and there was a fever blush high on his cheeks.

“Who, baby?” May asked, putting her hand on his arm. Peter jerked away like he was cowering from an attack and she pulled her hand back quickly.

“I-I need my webs, I’m going to—It’s so high,” he whimpered. He was starting to shift around in his bed, dislodging some of the ice packs.

“Hey, bud, calm down, you’ve got to keep these on.” Tony stood and tried to rearrange the bedding for Peter, but the kid pushed him away with a shout.

“No, don’t drop me, I can’t—We’re too high, I’ll fall, I—” He kicked the cooling blanket off, too, his eyes growing wilder by the second.

“Cho mentioned hallucinations,” May muttered, watching her kid struggle with some invisible enemy. Tony nodded, mouth dry. He’d been muttering nonsense for a while—apologizing for not finishing his homework, spouting random Spider-Man jokes or the occasional chemical equation—but this was so much worse. Peter was scared, now, of whatever was happening in his head and there was no way to stop it.

“Please. Stop, don’t drop me. _No!_ ” Peter screamed, clutching at the sheets hard enough to tear them.

May jumped to her feet, looking down at Peter as the kid thrashed on the bed, sweat curling his hair and soaking his hospital gown.

“Catch him,” she said in a rush.

“What?” Tony asked, his head spinning as he tore his gaze away from Peter.

“He thinks he’s falling! Catch him!”

Tony gapped at her. Then, shaking his head a little, he sat on the edge of the bed. Peter screamed again as Tony yanked the kid into a sitting position and cradled him to his chest.

“Peter!” Tony snapped. Peter’s frantic movements calmed down a little bit. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Peter arms snaked around Tony’s waist, holding on just a little too tightly, as if he were clutching the Iron Man suit as they tumbled through open air.

“Don’t worry, kid. You’re safe now,” Tony muttered low into Peter’s ear and Peter slumped against him as if in relief. His grip didn’t loosen at all though.

May was watching, chewing on her fingernail nervously.

Tony let his hand tangle in Peter’s sweat-damp curls.

“Would I ever let you fall, Pete?”

Peter shook his head against Tony’s sternum. “No, sir,” he slurred.

“No,” Tony agreed. “I’ll always catch you.”

Peter’s arms finally released their death grip on Tony, the kid sighing as he tucked his face against Tony’s neck.

Tony ducked his head and pressed his cheek against Peter’s too hot, sticky one. Even with the fever, it felt so good to hold the kid again, what he’d been aching to do for hours now. The feel of Peter’s staccato breaths against his throat was more soothing than any heart monitor ever could be, the comfort of Peter’s heart beating against his own. Tony closed his eyes, ran his hand through Peter’s hair.

“Tony,” May said softly. Tony opened his eyes again, remembering suddenly that they weren’t supposed to hold Peter. He needed to be tucked under his cooling blankets again, needed the ice packs carefully arranged around him.

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Tony carefully lowered Peter back against his pillows.

“Here we go, kiddo. Terra firma, once again, huh?”

Peter sighed in relief, his eyes slipping closed as Tony gently prised Peter’s fingers from his sleeve.

Tony sat back down while May fussed over Peter and subtly wiped at his eyes. 

Time dragged on as they waited. Tony kept asking FRIDAY for updates from Cho, only for the AI to play a recording of a snarling Cho telling Tony to back off and let her work.

May had cracked her first smile in hours as Tony had blinked in surprise. Then they’d both settled back into the positions they’d been in since Peter had last fallen asleep: Tony, with his hand on Peter’s knee, and May, propping her head on her hand and slowly stroking Peter’s arm.

Peter’s eyes snapped open. For the first time in hours, there was no pain clouding them, no fever or medication. Just pure, animalistic fear.

“I can’t move my legs,” Peter gasped.

Tony and May both bolted to their feet, standing on either side of his bed. May’s hands hovered over Peter as he continued to pant.

“FRI, tell Cho,” he breathed.

“I can’t, I can’t move,” Peter hiccupped.

“Shh, baby,” May cooed as she wiped away tears that were beginning to race down Peter’s cheeks.

“Scorpion venom...,” Tony murmured numbly.

“Is a paralytic,” May finished, meeting Tony’s eyes. Tony had thought it would be the muscle seizures that... But he remembered suddenly Cho saying that it was the venom that was killing him. The venom that would stop his heart once the paralytic reached it.

Peter looked between them frantically, his face pale.

“It’s ok, kid,” Tony rushed to assure, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “As soon as you get that cure you’ll be up and running into trouble in no time, alright?”

Peter’s bottom lip trembled, but he nodded.

“Good boy,” Tony murmured. May bent and kissed his temple, still thumbing his tears away.

“It’ll be ok,” she promised him, and it gave Tony a tiny bit of comfort to know that they would both be breaking promises today.

They held his hands, this time. Tony decided that he could care less if Peter broke his hand and it seemed May agreed, because she laced hers and Peter’s fingers together without a second of hesitation.

Tony would squeeze Peter’s hand every few minutes, and for a while, he got a small squeeze back. After another quarter of an hour, he stopped getting responses.

The heart monitor kept beeping, but it seemed that Peter’s heart was skipping more beats than it was hitting now. His breathing was shallow and wheezing.

The kid had fallen asleep, or passed out, again at some point.

May wiped tears from her face. Then she stood and clambered onto the bed next to Peter, curling up next to him. His fever was the least of their worries, now.

“Get up here, Tony,” May sniffled. Tony opened his mouth, trying to think of a way to protest. She just rolled her eyes and leaned over Peter to tug at Tony’s arm. “Come on. We’re not going to let our boy be alone, are we?”

Tony swallowed, and shook his head.

He clambered onto the mattress, Peter pressed close and fever hot. Tony cautiously laid his head on the pillow, tracing Peter’s profile with his eyes. He laid his hand on Peter’s chest and his fingers brushed May’s, doing the same thing on Peter’s other side.

“The night Ben died,” May murmured, her voice shaking, “Peter locked himself in his room. He’d been distant for a while and he’d been with Ben when...,” she cleared her throat. “I was laying on our bed, just... distraught. I couldn’t sleep I was crying so hard.”

Tony swallowed. He couldn’t imagine living in a world where Pepper was dead. But he’s sure May had felt the same way before Ben had been murdered.

He couldn’t imagine living in a world where Peter was dead, either.

“At almost one in the morning, I heard my door creak open. Peter came and crawled onto the bed with me and I tried to pull myself together enough to comfort him, but instead he—” May’s voice broke and she took a shuddering breath. “He pulled my head against his bony little chest and held me while I cried.”

Tears burned in Tony’s eyes and fell onto Peter’s pillow.

May hiccupped. The bed shook a little as she sobbed. “I won’t have anyone to hold me now.”

May was fully weeping against Peter’s hair now. Tony was barely holding on to his composure, feeling that he didn’t have any right to mourn when compared to May. He wasn’t the one losing his last family member, the child he’d raised for ten years.

“I love you, Peter,” May tried to say, but her voice was so thin and torn Tony could barely hear it. “I— _Tony,”_ she begged.

Tony sniffed, but took over. He brushed his thumb over Peter’s temple, his cheekbone.

“We love you, kiddo,” Tony said. “We love you so much.”

Peter took a rasping breath. The heart monitor beeped, paused for a long moment, then beeped again.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.

Tony cleared his throat.

“We just adore you, Pete,” he added, and May sobbed out an agreement. “You’re... you’re the light of our lives.” His voice cracked and he had to stop.

The light of their lives. A blazing star, about to die. And they would both be sucked into the black hole that was born from its end, never to escape. Never to recover.

A tear dripped off Tony’s nose, landing in Peter’s hair as Tony pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.

May grabbed Tony’s hand. 

The door burst open.

“I’ve got it,” Helen breathed, rushing forward. “I’ve got it.”

Tony nearly fell off the bed in his haste to get out of her way.

Cho had a single syringe, which she injected directly into Peter’s IV port.

Tony looked from Peter, to her, to Bruce standing in the doorway, rumpled and wide-eyed, and then turned to May. She had one hand over her mouth, the other still clutching tight to Peter.

“How... how long, do you think?” Tony asked numbly.

“Not too long,” Cho said, crossing her arms and watching Peter. “A few minutes tops before he starts being able to move again.”

May smiled, suddenly, blindingly, and let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Thank you,” she hiccupped. “You have no idea how much... _thank you_.”

She seemed reluctant to move from Peter’s side, which Tony understood. But he stepped forward anyway, sweeping a surprised Helen into a hug.

“Thank you,” he echoed. “If you hadn’t been here...”

She patted him on the back and pulled away. “Of course,” she said, shrugging off the praise.

Tony hugged Bruce too, before they both left to rest and get something to eat, with the promise that FRIDAY would alert them when Peter woke up.

Then Tony returned to the bed that he’d sat vigil at for the last four hours, perching on the edge.

May stuck out her hand, smiling as Tony took it. Then they each took one of Peter’s hands and waited, barely able to breathe.

It took two and a half minutes of squeezing Peter’s hand, but finally, _finally_ , Peter squeezed back.

May sobbed, a giddy, elated sound. She bent and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek, then leaned over Peter and wrapped Tony in a one armed hug, kissing his cheek as well. He hugged her back just as tightly. 

It was a miracle there was no lasting damage, from the fever or the Centipede serum. Tony had offered to buy Cho a private island in gratitude, but she’d laughed, saying that she’d be there for a day before he was calling her back because Peter got shot again. Tony hated that she was right.

He and May had started taking shifts in the Medbay, so they could actually get some food and sleep. Peter was supposed to be released in a couple days, but neither of them were too eager for that.

The kid’s muscles were still sore from the seizures, the wound on his side closing more slowly than normal. Not to mention that he was still in pain pretty much all the time as the poison worked its way out of his system.

It was May’s turn to watch the kid, now, and Tony was sitting in the darkened living room nursing a tepid mug of coffee. The bookshelf had been righted, all the books put back on. There was a new coffee table that Pepper must have picked out. Wood, this time.

“Is that new?” a voice asked, making Tony jump.

Peter was in the doorway, leaning against the wall for support.

Tony leapt to his feet and hurried over, wrapping an arm around Peter’s waist. The kid shifted to lean against him instead, letting Tony lead him back toward the couch.

“I would lecture you, but I’m honestly surprised it took you this long to escape,” Tony tutted. “May fall asleep?”

“Finally,” Peter said. He sat down with a hiss of pain that made Tony wince in sympathy. Tony sat next to him and found his shoulder instantly utilized as a pillow. “Seriously, that table is new right? I’m not addled?”

Tony huffed, curling his arm around Peter’s back. “Who still says addled, kid? But yeah, it’s new.”

Peter hummed in approval. He breathed in time with Tony for a long minute, shifting so that their ribs were pressed together, expanding and contracting in sync.

“Did you have to kill Scorpion to get the venom?” Peter asked quietly.

Tony took a deep breath, Peter’s damp hair smelling of the baby shampoo they provided in the medbay showers.

“No. I wanted to, though,” he admitted in that unintentional candor Peter often brought out of him. “I still do.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Tony knew that. Peter wanted everyone to live, no matter what they’d done or who they’d done it to. “I’m proud of you.”

The words sunk into Tony’s bloodstream, warm and healing.

Tony put his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, feeling the knob of his spine against his palm, the lingering warmth from his shower.

He pulled Peter a little closer, wrapped his other arm around him and held him for a long moment, his eyes closed as he counted Peter’s heartbeats.

Peter cuddled into him like he was ready to go to sleep.

“Uh-uh,” Tony chided gently, only pulling back enough to rest his chin on Peter’s head. “May’ll kill me if I let you sleep out here.”

Peter gave a small snort. “Nah. You two have bonded now, she told me.”

“She told you,” Tony repeated deadpan.

“Well, she told me she didn’t hate you anymore. Same thing.” Peter’s nose was a little cool where it pressed against Tony’s pulse point. It was almost nice, banishing the lingering memories of burning skin and fever hazy eyes.

“I’m not carrying you to the medbay, kid.” Tony insisted.

“Sure, you will,” Peter said, and Tony could feel his smile. “You adore me.”

Tony thought back to only a day and a half before, when he said the same thing to a Peter hanging onto life by a thread. When he thought he was saying goodbye.

“The light of my life,” Tony agreed, sincerity in every syllable. He kissed Peter’s hair.

“I like it when you do that,” Peter mumbled, the words starting to blur together as he dozed.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tony whispered. He’d call for a wheelchair to be brought down in a little while, but for now, he was happy to sit and hold his kid while he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who left kudos or comments on the last chapter, it means so much to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I always appreciate comments :)


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